Chapter Three

Ding dong.

Ding dong. The door opened to a seemingly annoyed face. The normally warm chocolate eyes seemed to have frosted over. It's not even up to eight hours since he was nice to me.

"Yes?" Jason was obviously not in a good mood and his face had a little streak of blue paint and I wisely didn't comment, I didn't need him getting more pissed off at me for interrupting whatever he was doing.

"Good day" I said rather sheepishly and he rolled his eyes.

"What?" He asked rudely before he got a proper look at me and then his eyes slightly widened when he did, boys? Pssstt. And also this guy has obviously more mood swings than I usually do when I am Pmsing or maybe he is even Pmsing now, who knows?

Now, what's the big deal of me wearing a big Mickey mouse T-shirt. Oh I know, my toned legs were on display. Cue eye roll and that teeny weeny internal smirk.

"Am so sorry for disturbing you, I'd.... I'd just start going" I said in the tiniest voice ever, and not have to drool over the sight of your barely there stubble, mentally added.

Barely had I taken two steps and he called me back "what do you want?"

Am a brat, I know but I guess it worked, he fell for my nervous stuttering. That I use on my dad. That works. Like all the time. Sue me.

"Um, could you kindly refer me to a good plumber? My bathroom sink leaks and gets the entire floor wet and I hate wet floors." Now I am being serious, I really hate wet floors.

He sucked in a breath and stiffly said "Give me a minute, let me get my tools."

"Are you a plumber?" He gave me a flat look, "See, the nearest plumber in town is about twenty minutes from here, and he's going to charge you for his fare and a work which might end up being minor enough for me to fix and besides I might as well pay you back for those tasty stuff you got me and maybe get a brownie or two as thank you. Just think of it as a friendly welcome package."

My mouth was gaping, so he is capable of using more than a sentence without going into a stroke.

"Close that pretty mouth, sweetie. No telling what you might catch with it that open."

Lord.

His face had cracked into a tiny smile, barely there but It. Was. Beautiful. And I was the one feeling like I might have a stroke.

Or a cardiac arrest.

Not fair.

He went inside and five minutes later he was out with a small toolbox.

I led the way to my flat and nearly tripped when I heard his voice muttering, "Damn, that ass."

I don't think I was meant to hear that.

_________

He was already wiping his sweaty forehead with his hands when I entered the bathroom thirty minutes later.

Somehow the work wasn't that minor, but he fixed it.

"I would love to wash my hands," I silently handed him my strawberry body wash and a little hand towel.

"You can clean up......" His eyes were on my legs, I had tied up my shirt into a knot at the back while cooking lunch and my midriff and Juicy short shorts were on display.

His eyes lazily trailed up to my thighs, "my eyes are up here, sir."

His eyes flashed. Hard. He took a step or two forward and was suddenly towering over me.

"I don't really care where your eyes are, when you are showing off like that," I was already breathing hard. Before I could reply, he was already at the sink washing his big hands.

Oh man, that was intense but then he broke it by raising my bodywash to his face and making a barf face after dramatically sniffing it.

"Now I am going to smell like fruits and one more thing, don't call me Sir sarcastically again, unless you want to get spanked for being a brat." He casually said.

Say what?

I made my escape but not before shouting out "Lunch's ready." To which I heard a chuckle. The nerve.

•••••••••

Lunch was already done and the dishes washed up and we were in my sitting room eating dessert.

I made us brownies and fresh orange juicr.

"Your place is nice and tidy, I like my women tidy." My heart skipped a beat, I don't think he realised what he had said so casually because he continued curiously "you love art?"

"Yes, I love art, but they are too expensive to acquire." He hummed a bit.

He stood up and went to the only expensive piece of painting I had and studied it curiously.

"This is an original Jay Morris." He said almost surprised.

"Yes. I love his work," I joined him studying the painting. It was a painting of the woods looking so serene that you could almost smell the woodsy scent, hear the birds chirping and maybe see a squirrel or two.

"Looking at his works kind of centers me and gives me inspiration."

He gave me a curious look, "you an artist?" Oh, I wish I could create beautiful piece like that but the only artistic ability I possess was in fashion illustration after a year of some serious online fashion illustration course and with the aid of a basic croquis. You could call me a creative instead.

"Oh no, am a fashion designer. Still trying to make it out here." I chuckled nervously under his intense gaze, he nodded and seemed to break out of a reverie.

Before I could ask him about what he does for a living, he straightened up, "I have got to start going, thanks for lunch it was delicious and I had a great time."

"I am so sorry, I forget that you were probably busy when I came. You are welcome, maybe some other time. I had fun too."

"You can disturb me anytime if I get to eat brownies later, and Ivory?"

"Yes?"

"You have hot legs." He smirked and winked before opening my door and disappearing out of sight. Leaving my jaw on the floor.